Opening Caitlin Ch. 02

The nibbling moved down, across her clavicle to her breast. Richard latched on to her nipple with white-hot intensity, sucking hard until she cried out with mixed pain and pleasure. When she couldn't bear it any longer, he moved on, nibbling across tummy and hip and down to inner thigh. Her hips rose off the bed with offering herself to him, ready to accept that familiar mouth onto her pussy. But that didn't happen. The bed rocked with shifting weight, and suddenly, Richard was inside of her.

But it wasn't Richard.

The mouth had fooled her. The nibbling wasn't a usual Richard tactic, but it hadn't seemed out of place. Combined with the aftershave, she'd been fooled. But the cock--you couldn't fake the cock. The cock was definitely not Richard's; it was longer and thinner than Richard's, and when she'd been sucking it just a few moments before, she'd noted the difference.

"Aaron!" she begged. "Aaron, no, Aaron!!" But he was pistoning into her, ploughing his cock into her wet, wet pussy, and ignoring her protests. He clamped his mouth down on hers, muffling any further protests.

The cock swept smoothly in and out; he wasn't hurting her. But tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes nonetheless, and she shook with rage. She was furious--angry at Richard for putting her in this position, angry at Aaron for taking advantage of her trust, and her husband's trust.

Aaron, god damn him, had let go of her mouth and changed angles. Now he slid his hands underneath her ass and had lifted her hips, so that he ground his pelvis against her clit every time he rammed his cock home. The pressure was building, and Caitlin was going to come in spite of herself. Aaron grunted with his exertions now, no longer silent since she'd figured out his identity. "Come on, Caitlin, baby, come for me, little girl," he crooned. And, god damn him, she came, her pussy clenching weakly on his thin cock. It was obviously strong enough though; Aaron let out his breath and his semen with one long, protracted groan. "Ahhhh.... you fuck so good, Caitlin."

Caitlin caught her breath in a sob.

"Get off me," she said, even as her body contracted with another spasm. Aaron pushed deeper into her, grinding her into the mattress, and took one of her nipples between his teeth, sucking hard. Caitlin cried out with the pain, though the stimulation shook another spasm from her.

Aaron released her nipple with a loud sucking pop. "You played me hot and cold for six months, you little bitch," he said, not without affection. "I'm just taking what I feel I'm owed. I don't think even Richard would begrudge me this, not considering what he's had you doing all day."

"You don't know anything about him," Caitlin said fiercely.

Aaron pulled out of her in one smooth stroke. He got off the bed and untied her blindfold. She lay staring up at him, dazed.

"You look beautiful," he said, and ran one hand down his wet, slimy cock. He wiped the moisture he collected messily across her lips and cheek. Then he pulled out a digital camera and snapped a couple pictures.

"Blackmail?" she asked.

"Just for my personal collection," he said, and got dressed in front of her. He stuffed the camera in his jeans pocket, released one of her wrists from the restraints, and headed for the door. "I'm leaving you here, and you could take all kinds of petty revenge on me if you tried," he said. "But if you're smart, I think you'll just take the chance to leave."

He left the room, and shortly afterwards, she heard the apartment door close.

Caitlin fumblingly released her other arm from the restraints, then released her feet. She looked at the mess of her tights, and simply left them on the bed in the long ragged lines as Aaron had cut them from her. A gift to remember her by. From him, she had the semen leaking down her thigh.

She rezipped her skirt, rehooked her bra and rebuttoned her shirt. She frowned when she realized one of the buttons had popped off. Dammit. She threw open Aaron's closet, and stared at the array of t-shirts. Then--there. His one white button-down Oxford shirt. That would be his price, then. She stripped her pink shirt off and left it in a ball on his closet floor. She put on Aaron's shirt and wandered into the bathroom in a daze.

Really, how could he have done this to her?

How could Richard have let this happen?

Tremblingly, she took the comb off the bathroom sink and worked it through her hair. When that was orderly again, she hunted out a clean washcloth, and let hot water run over it, then washed her face where Aaron had left the mixed slime of her wetness and his. Then, spraddling her legs, she touched the washcloth to her pussy, and nearly jumped--she was so sensitive right now. Delicately, she wiped the wetness away, though she knew it was futile. More would leak out over the next few hours.

She threw the washcloth into the sink in a wad. There was no point in rinsing it; it would still smell of sex--her sex. And she didn't want to do any real favors for Aaron--though she was taking the implied threat seriously. She wouldn't destroy anything in his apartment.

She wandered back into his bedroom, stared at the rumpled bedclothes and the wet mark on them. She turned away, and began opening drawers at random, not even sure what she was looking for. The bedside table held an interesting array of condoms, lube, a butt-plug or two... she stared at this array for a moment, her pussy spasming secretly between her legs when she saw the shiny red of the butt-plug.

Damn him, he'd had condoms, and he hadn't used them with her.

She wondered into his small office, and found a folder labeled "to be filed." On top of it was the print-out of an email.

From Richard. To Aaron. The subject: "Caitlin's Birthday Surprise." All it mentioned was the date and time Aaron was to expect her. The details had been worked out in another message, she guessed.

Caitlin crumpled up the message and tossed it away, and opened the "to be filed" folder. A bank statement. Nothing interesting there. Beneath that, a recent suite of medical tests, all negative.

No STDs.

She was relieved. And then wondered why Aaron had tested himself.

Had he been planning this? No, he couldn't have. Richard had ordered up a lap dance, nothing more, and he'd had no reason to expect she'd just drop to her knees and offer to blow him.

And yet, the restraints had been on the bed.

She found her pumps in the living room, and with them, the clue, the one that said, "Demi Moore did it, and just so we're clear, it's that movie you hated, not the one you love."

She opened it up, desperately wishing she'd stuck with the striptease. There was no saying that Aaron wouldn't have raped her anyway--

Rape. Such an ugly word.

"Aaron raped me," she said out loud, and the words sounded so strange together--Aaron--raped--me--and the suddenly the memory of Aaron fucking her was overwhelming--the memory of lying spread-eagled and tied down, his cock piercing her again and again, and the grinding of his pelvis into her clit, the complete lack of control, and the way she had sobbed out loud when she had come. And before that, the delicious taste of Aaron's cock in her mouth, the feeling as he nudged the back of her throat with his cockhead and--

And Aaron had planned it. Aaron had been tested because he didn't want to actually hurt her... Not permanently, anyway. Caitlin shivered, wondering if Aaron had been just waiting for an opportunity, any opportunity, for the last two years...

Caitlin closed her eyes for a moment. She could just go home. Right now. And Richard would take her into his arms and--

And what?

She considered, then, all the immense trouble he had gone to for her. He would be so disappointed if she hated this... If he knew what had happened to her.

She looked at the next clue.

"You must be hungry. There's a meal waiting at our favorite restaurant."

That wasn't terribly difficult to figure out. Caitlin left Aaron's apartment without a backwards glance, and got into her car, where she reapplied her lipstick and some pressed powder. She drove across town to The Almond Tree, the restaurant Richard had taken her to on their second date. They had sat together in the back corner for hours, talking while Richard's hand roamed under her skirt and across her breast. The dim, romantic lighting made such public indecencies possible.

At the restaurant, the hostess took Caitlin back immediately to their favorite table, and Richard was there, waiting. Caitlin tried to fall into his arms, but he merely barked, "Sit down."

Caitlin sat.

"Hands at your sides."

Caitlin grasped the edges of her chair, and Richard lounged back and looked gratified by her obedience.

She had been on the verge of a breakdown when she first saw him; her next impulse had been to get angry and throw things. But he had caught her off guard, and now she simply stared at him, mute and uncertain.

"Good," he said. "You shouldn't speak until you're spoken to, but I didn't even have to tell you." He moved his chair closer to her now, tilted his head to whisper in her ear, and flicked one thumbnail across her nipple. She gasped slightly. "Your nipples are practically raw, aren't they?" he asked. "Someone sucked them purple, I bet. Was it Tess? Jon?" She shook her head at each name. "Aaron?"

She hesitated and nodded.

"You probably think what I had you do with Aaron is unconscionable," Richard said. "But it was just payback, sweetheart. You're such a cocktease. You always have been. You led Aaron on, didn't you? Flirted, chatted online, went on chaste dates to the movies and didn't even hold hands, all the while telling him the most outrageous things over email... Did you ever explain to him why you ended it before it even really began?"

Caitlin stared at him. Good lord, did he know Aaron had fucked her? And how did he know about her abortive fling with Aaron? What had Aaron been telling him? Had it been collusion between the two of them? Was the lap dance just a set-up for rape?

Then she realized: her diaries. Richard had been reading her diaries. She clamped her lips shut on her sudden fury.

"Sad thing is, you knew you were teasing him! But you couldn't stop. Because you wanted him. You wanted him to do unspeakable things to you. But when you saw him in person, you got scared. You were afraid. Afraid to ask for those unspeakable things. Afraid to lose control. Afraid to submit. And, most importantly, you didn't want to ask. You wanted a man who could read you. Figure out that you were ready to be taken. Aaron, poor man, didn't quite know how to get you to spread your legs, though."

Caitlin shook her head at this interpretation, even though it was the truth.

"Don't shake your head at me," Richard said, and nipped her ear sharply. She cried out. "Now, cocktease, you have the man you need. One who won't let you get away with shit like that." He was ruthless, relentless, and yet Caitlin realized--it was all just a game to him. At the end of this long day, he intended to fuck her, to reassert his dominion over her, a dominion he never once doubted was in jeopardy, nor doubted that he had put into jeopardy.

Caitlin didn't know how to respond. She wriggled slightly in her chair, and decided to whimper.

"You make such lovely little whimpers, my dear," Richard said indulgently, and slid his chair back to his side of the table. A waiter showed up moments later with a flank steak salad, which he put in front of Caitlin. "Eat up," Richard said, after dismissing the waiter.

Caitlin ate. She was starving. She chewed and swallowed with methodical concentration. When she finished, she drank down her water, and then sat again with her hands clenching the sides of the chair.

"Very good," Richard said. "You've come a long way, Caitlin. Let's see how much further you can go." From his breast pocket, he pulled another envelope.

"Open at 1:30PM," it read.

"You've got a few minutes," Richard said. He slid his chair next to hers, and his hand crept up her inner thigh. Caitlin clenched her legs together. "When did you take your tights off?" he asked. "You just couldn't bear to put them back on after your lap dance?" He slid his other hand along her thigh until he got in a position to wrench her legs apart.

"No!" Caitlin said in a horrified whisper.

His hand crept between her legs, and he slid two strong fingers into her slit. "Let's see how wet you are," he whispered throatily.

Caitlin's clit came clamoring to life, and she moaned, trying to rub against his hand. "Very slippery," he said quietly, pulling his fingers from her. He held his hand in front of him and stared. "This isn't just you, is it."

"He r-raped me," Caitlin said.

Richard's face was immediately dark, disastrously angry. "Rape."

"I didn't want it!"

"Didn't you?"

She was silent.

"What did you do, Caitlin?" he asked in a low voice.

"I--I sucked his cock." Richard looked at the wet fingers he still held out in front of her, then reached over and smeared the wetness on her lips. She closed her eyes. Just like Aaron, she thought.

"I should have known," Richard said roughly. "You're probably thinking this is my fault." He was quiet for a long moment. "It is my fault."

She opened her eyes again, but didn't look up at him. She noticed he had an erection.

"Are you ok?" he asked at length.

"He didn't hurt me. And he--had had tests. They were all negative."

"He didn't hurt you. But you said no?"

"I said--" Caitlin tried to remember. Had she said no? Not until after he was inside her. "I thought he was you," she whispered. "I was blindfolded, and he was wearing your aftershave."

"So, it wasn't so much rape as deception," Richard said.

"I knew it wasn't you when he--"

"Penetrated you," Richard finished flatly. Caitlin blushed, and felt a small pulse of heat between her thighs at his bald words.

"Yes," Caitlin whispered. Richard's erection was still firmly outlined in his khakis. Caitlin bit her lip, thinking, How does this get him hard, and keep him hard? My violation is sexy to him--?

Richard was silent for a long moment. "You're going to finish the hunt," he said at length. "Only, the rules are going to change a little."

"What?" Caitlin asked. "I was--"

"And you liked it," Richard said, and she realized he was angry--aroused, but angry. She sat still, frightened, wondering what he was going to do to her now. He stood up, tapped the clue in front of her and said, "Sit still until 1:30. I'll know if you peek."

He got up and left.

Caitlin sat very still and tried not to cry. She did allow herself to check her watch--after she was sure at least ten minutes had passed. Five minutes more. Well, that was easy enough. She had a lot to think about. But strangely, for the next five minutes, she didn't find herself thinking so much about the awfulness, the horror, the things she thought, somehow, she should be thinking about. She thought instead about the deep anger and the raging erection Richard had had when he left. And she thought about the way Aaron had made her come.

She was grateful when 1:30 came, and she didn't have to worry if she was thinking the right things.

She opened the envelope.

"Return my books to the library. Then check the bulletin boards there."

That was a bit surprising--more straightforward than the other clues, mostly. When Caitlin returned to her car, she found, indeed, a stack of library books in the passenger seat. She drove to the library, feeling the cum continuing to slip out of her pussy, and wondered if she was leaving a wet spot on her seat.

At the stoplight, she found herself rocking back and forth, feeling her pussy lips slide against each other as she did so. God, if she wasn't careful, she might come right here in the car...

At the library, she checked her makeup in the vanity mirror before getting out of the car. Richard had smeared her lipstick, and the edges of the cum on her lips had dried slightly white, but otherwise she looked alright. Maybe a little glassy-eyed, like a woman who had been seriously fucked earlier in the day, and hadn't yet recovered.

She put the books in the outside drop, then went in to look at the bulletin boards. Under personal messages: "Caitlin. Find the first book you ever came for."

She blushed while reading it, and wondered if anyone realized that that message was for her. Then she realized--if anyone saw that message, they'd just assume it was not meant in a sexual way. And if anyone did, they'd take it down.

Either way, she didn't have to claim it. She left it on the board.

Caitlin went upstairs to fiction. B--Blume, Judy. There. Wifey. She plucked it off the shelf, paged through it, and yes, right at the scene she had been reading when she masturbated to her first orgasm, a slip of paper fell out. She picked up the note: it simply held a call number.

She sighed, went back to the stairs and climbed up to non-fiction, and found the range with the call number she was looking for. At the end of the aisle, Jon sat in a study carrel, stroking his cock and grinning at her.

As though she had no choice, Caitlin found herself drawn down the aisle towards Jon. He didn't say anything. Neither did she. They stood facing each other for a long moment.

"This was to have been the third base clue," Jon said, handing her the envelope. Indeed, it read, "You'll have to blow your way to third base." "But I'm told the rules have changed. Are you ready?"

Caitlin bit her lip. So, Richard had intended for her to give someone a blow job today, she had just jumped the gun a little.

"Where's Tess?" she asked.

Jon's grin was sly. "I'm told she's fucking your husband as we speak."

Caitlin paled, and her heart sank. Was this payback? Or part of the original plan? Well, fuck Richard. Fuck--

She dropped to her knees and took Jon's cock into her mouth. He was completely shaved, and his cock was oddly shaped--oval-shaped, maybe, wider one way than the other. Like sucking on a ribbon, she thought, moving on him eagerly. He smelled good--clean and masculine.

Jon groaned softly and reached out to touch her hair. He worked the buttons at her throat and above her breasts--fortunately, Aaron's shirt was big enough that Jon didn't have to undo much of it in order to pull it down and spill her breasts into his hands. He began tugging the raw nipples, causing Caitlin to whine in her throat as she drew on his cock, but he didn't stop until she was almost writhing with pain and ecstasy.

"So good," he said at length, almost explosively, as he began to thrust upward into her mouth. He grabbed her head to hold it in place. "So good!" Then he pulled her mouth off his cock, and held her away from him for a moment, looking into her eyes. "I need you to arch your back for me, Caitlin," he said.

She stared at him, then obeyed. He pushed her back down on his cock. "I'm just not ready to come yet, so go slow. Okay, now. Push your ass out. Push it back. Spread your legs a little. Show your pussy, like you want it to be fucked."

Puzzled, she did all these things, while maintaining a slow rhythm on his cock.

"Gooooood," he said, drawing the word out hoarsely and closing his eyes. "Oh, god, you're good. Okay. Stay still."

And behind her, she heard a zipper.

Caitlin tried to pull away, to turn around and look, but Jon's grip on her head suddenly became like iron. Caitlin obediently kept sucking his dick, but her concentration wasn't on that anymore. Her skirt was flipped up over her back, and slowly, two cold fingers slid along her pussy, which was open to the world thanks to Jon's directions; the shock of the cold on her clit made her jump and moan, and she began to tremble as the fingers slid up and down, up and down, from anus to clit and back again.